


The Crow: Lament

by xenaamazon



Category: The Crow (Comics), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenaamazon/pseuds/xenaamazon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom returns from the land of the dead to take vengeance on the men who killed him and his fiancee</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I am a huge fan of the original Crow film, as well as the graphic novel by James O'Barr. While I hope that this piece pays both works (and all involved in creating them) homage, this is completely a work of my own creation. Thank you to all who first read it and loved it and inspired me to not only get back to writing, but to post it. And thanks to all of you for reading it!!

Tom woke up and took a deep breath, his lungs screaming at the sudden influx of oxygen filling them. He opened his eyes only to find that he was surrounded by complete darkness. He tried to remember where he was, what had happened, but no memories came to him. He carefully raised his hand, but quickly found it blocked by something hard, covered with a little bit of padding and some silk. He ran his hand along it, panic starting to fill him as he realized what it was. He was very clearly laying in a coffin. Again he tried to call up memories, why was he in a coffin? Who had put him there? Clearly this had to be some sort of horrible nightmare.

Whether this was a dream or not he needed to get out. He clawed at the fabric above his chest, grateful that it was cheap and tore easily. He pulled at the fabric and padding beneath it until he could feel the bare wood beneath his finger tips. “Please work” he thought as he set his finger tips against the wood. He took a calming breath, then quickly pulled his hand back, pulling his fingers into a tight fist and punched the solid wood. It hurt like he expected it to, but the pain was somehow not nearly as searing as he thought it would be. He smiled to himself as he heard the wood splinter ever so slightly, it was going to work, he was going to escape.

It seemed like ages before the dirt started to fall through, but once it did he began grabbing the edges of the small opening and tearing at the lid. The coffin began filling up with dirt more rapidly, but he managed to scoot himself down enough to pull himself through the small opening. It was tight, and he could feel the wood pulling at his clothes, but he dug through the dirt, his lungs once again fighting for air. His hand finally finding the air above ground, Tom struggled to find enough leverage to pull himself out of the grave, his lungs growing more and more painful for the want of air.

Finally breaking the surface, Tom took a deep breath, his lungs once again burning with the air suddenly filling them. He pulled himself out of the grave and collapsed on the ground. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain. Tom wasn’t sure if it was due to his struggle to free himself from the coffin and grave, or if it was because he had been down there for some unknown length of time. He took several deep breaths, the sent of wet grass and dirt filling his nostrils, before he pushed himself over so he was laying on his back, the rain falling onto his face. It was dark, clearly well after nightfall. Lightning briefly filling the dark night with blinding light and causing Tom to quickly close his eyes.

That is when he heard it, the single caw of a crow, almost as if it was saying hello. Tom opened his eyes and lifted his head to see a crow perched on a slab of stone, his head cocked as though waiting for Tom to answer. Tom lowered his head, the effort to hold it up was almost too much to bare. “It’s you,” he said, the words coming out more of a whisper than he had meant them. His voice was hoarse and weak. The crow cawed at Tom again, this time more insistent than before, when Tom ignored it the bird began to tap the slab, impatient with the man laying on the wet ground. Tom gave out a groan before pulling himself up to sit and get a proper look at the bird that he remembered from somewhere. It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he wished that he had stayed in the grave. The slab the crow was perched on was a headstone that bore his name. He moved closer to the headstone, and ran his fingers across the letters. They were clearly new, but when he looked at the ground he was sitting on the grass had clearly grown in, and dead leaves drifted across the cemetery in the gentle breeze.

Another flash of lighting brought Tom’s attention to the headstone beside his own, his heart suddenly tightened with pain, a flash of memory to go with the name etched on it. “Lisa,” he whispered as he reached over and ran his fingers across her name. He could just recall her smile, it was the kind that would light up and entire room. They had been happy, there had been laughter, but he suddenly remembered pain and darkness. He turned to the crow, who was still perched atop his headstone studying Tom. “Is she here?” he asked, his voice becoming stronger. The crow ruffled its feathers and took to the air, only to land on the branch of a tree a few feet from Tom’s grave. Tom took it as an answer in the negative, and looked back to Lisa’s grave. Why had he come back? Surely there must be a reason for it, for him to return and not her. Home. He needed to return home, if was still there. How long had it been? A few months? A few years? It didn’t matter, all he knew at that moment was that he needed to return home.  
He stood and turned to the crow, watching it for a moment, letting the rain wash the dirt from his grave off of him. “Okay,” he finally said, “I’m ready to go home.” The crow gave him a nod and a caw in response and took flight again, this time heading for the gate of the cemetery.

***

_“Is it much further?” Lisa asked, reaching up to adjust the blindfold Tom had insisted she wear. He looked over and smiled at her, even though he knew she couldn’t see him, he just couldn’t help it, he’d been sitting on this secret for months now, and he was finally able to let the cat out of the bag. Reaching over and taking her hand away from her face he gave her a reassuring squeeze. She hated surprises, and this was a big one, he just hoped it didn’t make her too mad._

_“I promise, we are almost there, and you’re going to love it.” They drove the rest of the way in silence, Lisa growing more and more nervous as to what this huge surprise could possibly be. Tom on the other hand was growing calmer the closer they got, she really would love this surprise, she might not even stay mad at him for very long this time. They finally pulled up to the curb, and Tom rushed around the car to help Lisa out. “Okay, just come stand over here,” he said, guiding her to a spot on the side walk. After making sure she was positioned properly he moved to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, a grin spreading across his face he said, “Alright, time to open your eyes.”_

_Lisa pulled the blindfold down off her face, blinking at the sudden bright light. It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at, and she could feel Tom growing slightly more tense as he waited for her reaction. “It’s, a house.” she said, with as much enthusiasm as if she was stating that the sky was blue. Tom couldn’t help but laugh, bowing his head down and resting it on her shoulder for a moment before moving to stand beside her._

_“This,” he said, stretching out one arm to indicate the house that Lisa was still staring at, “this is your house, if you want it.” Lisa looked at Tom, eyes wide with shock as the full meaning of his words hit her. She looked back at the house, and then again at Tom, his smile somehow bigger than before._

_“You bought us a house?”_

_“Well, we’ve been talking about moving in together for months now, and you’ve been saying that we need a bigger place. I also know how much you’ve wanted a house, I got a great deal on it. I mean, it needs some work, a little bit of plaster and some paint, but it’s in great shape. It’s the perfect place for us to start a life together.” Lisa couldn’t respond, the shock of it all stunning her into silence. He had bought them a house. How long had he been planning this? How long had he been looking for a place without her knowing? And it was true, they did need a bigger place, they both lived in teeny tiny apartments that would never house both of them, but a house? She had wanted one, but she thought for sure that was a few years down the road._

_She looked at it, the big porch that was just asking for a nice table and a couple of chairs, the big front yard that hinted at an even bigger back yard. The two stories rising above, hints of three or four bedrooms, perfect for craft rooms and offices and even a nursery in the future. She could see it, a happy life filled with love with Tom in this house. She turned her attention back to Tom, his wide smile now faded away and replaced with a look of heavy concern. She could almost hear his thoughts, that he had messed up big time. She reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, gently stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. “Tom, promise me you will never surprise me like this again.” His heart fell, there was no sign of joy in her voice, no excitement for what he had done._

_“I promise,” he said, trying not to let the disappointment he felt seep into his voice._

_“Good. Now, want to show me around our house?”_

***

Tom stood outside the gate, on the sidewalk where he had once had Lisa stand. The house was still and dark. There where ghosts in the house. The ghosts of memory. They had been happy here, from that very first afternoon when he had brought her here, gave her a tour of the rooms. The longer the tour went on, the more their excitement grew, they were going to have a life here, they were going to be happy. The memories didn’t bring joy now, they only brought Tom pain. He glanced at the crow, now perched on the gate, watching the same ghosts as Tom. He sighed, “Well, we can’t stand here, watching forever.”

The floorboards of the stairs creaked under Tom’s weight as he slowly ascended them. It was clear that no one had been in the house for months, left abandoned after him and Lisa had died. The air was stale and musty, though he could still smell her perfume, light and flowery, clearly some memory coming to the surface, much like his memory of her smile when she had asked him to show her around this very place. He paused at the top of the stairs, looking at the bedroom doors. They had just started to decorate them. A spare room should anyone stop by and need a place to sleep, an office for him so he could work on grading papers in peace, and even though Lisa had never said it, he knew she was saving the third spare room for a nursery.

He sighed and made his way down the hall, stopping at the last door on the left, slowly pushing the door open as though he didn’t want to wake someone sleeping inside. The room was of course empty of anyone living, he hadn’t really expected it to be otherwise. The four poster bed was still there, the linens faded and yellowed from the sun that poured through the window almost daily. He closed his eyes as another memory came to him, of him and Lisa falling asleep wrapped in each others arms. _“Mine?” she had asked, her voice heavy with sleep. “Forever.” he answered, pulling her closer. “Only forever?” “Forever…”_

“..and ever.” Tom said, the memory fading away. He turned towards the closet and began riffling through it, tossing clothes aside. It took him a moment, but he finally found what he was looking for, a black shirt, one of his favorites, and a pair of black leather pants that Lisa had bought him for a good laugh. He pulled his suit, still caked in mud from the grave, off and tossed it on the floor. After replacing the suit with the shirt and pants he had pulled out of the closet he went into the bathroom, surely Lisa would have had what he was looking for, she was always hosting some sort of costume party after all. It didn’t take long for Tom to find the pancake makeup, he spread it across his face until his features were totally obscured. He then reached into her makeup bag and pulled out the black lipstick, using it to mark his eyes and lips in an imitation of the comedy mask, in honor of the theater he had been working at when he first met Lisa. He made his way down the stairs, and went through the kitchen, finding his boots where he had left them by the back door. Pulling them on Tom looked up to find the crow perched on the table, studying him.

He stood up to his full height, his lean 6’2” frame casting strange shadows across the kitchen. Smiling he said to the crow, “I remember you brought me back from the land of the dead.” The crow gave a caw in response, causing Tom’s smile to widen, the makeup making him look slightly mad. “I’m ready now.”

The ghosts of the house were painful, but they brought him something he needed, he knew the reason he was back: Him and Lisa had been murdered. The details still not quite into focus yet, but he was here to make them pay, and the crow was going to lead the way.

* * *

 

_Lisa stood outside the theater hugging her coat tighter against herself. It was freezing, and had started to snow a few minutes before, but she was going to wait. She had been coming to every production of the theater for months now, not because the shows were amazing, but because of that one actor who seemed to be in everything. He was the best actor in these little community productions by far. His little bio in the program said he had done quite a bit of theater in collage, it was after all his second major. Why he had chosen to become an English teacher was beyond her, he could have been a big Hollywood actor. But maybe she was just biased._

_It had taken her three months and two productions to work up the nerve to wait for him outside the little theater so she could meet him, she wasn’t about to let some snow stop her. The door to the theater opened and the butterflies that had calmed down when the snow started leaped up again. She couldn’t help but smile when he walked through the door. He was taller than her by almost a foot, all legs it seemed. His jet black hair was just long enough to show a little bit of curl, and it set off his bright blue eyes nicely. It was his smile that she loved most though, it was the kind of smile that instantly brought you joy just by see it. Lisa had decided that it was his smile that had really hooked her._

_Tom was somewhat surprised to see her waiting by the door, but it was brief, and his smile managed to grow even wider. Lisa couldn’t help but blush, and momentarily forgot what she was doing. She cleared her throat and raised a hand in a little wave. “I just wanted to tell you that you did really well today.” She could have smacked her head at how dumb she sounded._

_“Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.” Oh god, she had forgotten he spent most of his childhood in England and that he most likely still had an accent. “I recognize you, you’ve been to several of our productions over the last few months. You must really like the theater.”_

_Lisa blushed a little more, she could almost hear the smirk in his voice, despite the friendly smile on his face. “Yeah, I’ve always loved going to the theater even little community productions.”_

_“What did you think of tonight’s performance?”_

_“Oh, it was wonderful! Though I really prefer the comedies.”_

_“I do too, if I’m going to be honest about it. Want to get a cup of coffee and talk about it some more?” Lisa beamed, and they headed off to the diner together. The silence of the falling snow making it seem as though they were the only ones left in the world._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memory at the end of the chapter really doesn't have anything to do with the story (unlike the memory of Tom showing Lisa the house for the first time, that was part of him remembering), but just as Tom is tormented by the ghosts of memories, my muse has seen fit to give me little glimpses into their life. There will be a few more of these, which I will try to separate from the main text, hopefully I haven't made it too confusing. Thank you again for reading!!


	2. Fear

Tom walked down the quiet street, looking at each of the cars parked along the side of the road. He had a lot of vehicles to choose from for his trip into the city, but he was looking for a specific car. He found it at the end of the block, a black Chevy impala, built sometime in the 60’s, back when they built them solid and without all the computer gadgets inside. He walked up to it, and gently pulled the door handle to test if it was locked, a smile spreading over his face when he found it unlocked. Tom slipped inside the car and reached below the steering wheel, pulling down the wires until he found the wires he needed to start the car. The engine roared to life, and he put it into gear and took off down the road towards the city, the crow flying ahead of him, leading the way.

***

Mitch sat at the bar, as far away from the door as he could get without sitting at one of the tables. He had always thought that sitting at a table by yourself at a bar was something only pussies did. He had been growing restless the last few weeks, the dreams he had once looked forward to have now taken a strange turn into nightmares. Mitch smiled to himself at how childish it was. Surely it was only because of the stories his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Stories of people returning from the dead to take vengeance on the people who had killed them. It wasn’t possible, but as the weeks went on, drawing closer to Halloween when the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest, the dreams grew stronger.

Mitch couldn’t help but laugh at himself a little as he took another shot of whiskey. He had killed a lot of people over the years, and none of them had come back to repay him. Ghost stories, that’s all those tales his grandmother had told him had been. Why would that man and woman be any different than the rest? Sure he hadn’t done it alone, and it was a bit more brutal than usual, but dead was dead. There ain’t no coming back. Mitch signaled the barkeep for a beer, and settled in for a long night of drinking.

***

Tom parked the impala and looked at the bar across the street. It was a rough part of town, most of the buildings on the block had long since been abandoned, and how the bar was still in business was anyone’s guess. The crow had perched itself on the handle bars of a lone motorcycle that was just outside the door. Tom looked at the parking lot, there was just one car parked there, old and beat up and slightly neglected. Good, he was alone in the bar save the barkeep, which would help. Tom didn’t want any more people getting hurt than necessary.

He got out of the car and headed across the street, the rain pouring down doing little to impede him. The crow cawed at him in encouragement, and Tom gave it a slight nod before opening the door and stepping inside. Mitch jumped as the door opened, letting in the cold air. The man standing in the doorway surprised Mitch, but only because he didn’t think anyone would be out in this weather. The stranger walked in, letting the door fall shut behind him, he looked around the room before sitting at the corner of the bar closest to Mitch.

Mitch eyed the man, he was an inch or two shorter than Mitch, and weighed about 50 pounds less. Mitch knew if the guy was looking for a fight it would be short. The barkeep placed a beer in front of the man, signaled to Mitch that he was going out for a smoke and left. “You do know that Halloween is tomorrow, right?” Mitch asked once the barkeep was outside.

The man smiled and Mitch couldn’t decide if the makeup made the smile sinister, or if that was just the way the man smiled. “Do you know why people wear masks and paint their faces for Halloween?”

“I don’t really give a fuck why people do it.” Mitch said, leaning towards the man a little. Why the hell did he even ask the stupid question in the first place? The man just sat there, ramrod straight, hands below the bar and staring at the wall of liquor bottles, it was making Mitch nervous.

“It’s to scare the souls of the dead away.” He looked at Mitch then, and Mitch’s panic kicked into high gear. Mitch pulled a knife from his waistband and pointed it at the man with the painted face.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.” Before Mitch could process what he had said, Tom reached up and grabbed Mitch’s wrist, causing him to drop the knife. “Times up, Mitch.”

Mitch was staring at his wrist, the fucking clown was holding it way tighter than he should have been able to. He could have sworn he had heard a bone crack. He tried to tap down the fear that was rising in him and locked eyes with Tom, “Wh-who are you?”

Tom’s smile faded, and he eased his grip a little. “It’s more like what am I? I used to be a man, happily in love with a woman named Lisa.” He tightened his grip and pulled Mitch’s arm closer to him causing Mitch to stretch across the bar. Tom could feel the bones beneath his hand break. “Until you and your friends raped and killed her.” This time Mitch couldn’t control the fear that spread across his face. Those weren’t nightmares he’d been having, they were a warning. “Of course, you killed me too, but I’m guessing that I was just collateral damage.”

He picked up the knife that Mitch had dropped, and rolled Mitch’s arm so his palm was flat against the bar. “Now,” Tom said, waving the knife in front of Mitch’s face, “you just stay put.” He drove the blade into Mitch’s hand, pushing it through until only the handle of was above his hand. Mitch screamed in pain, his vision going red from it. Tom got up and walked over to one of the tables. He picked up one of the chairs and broke a leg off of it, he bounced it a few times in his hand, testing the weight. Mitch was in full blown panic, and grabbed the handle of the knife with his good hand, trying to pull it out, but only causing himself more pain. “So, here’s the deal,” Tom said, turning back towards Mitch holding the chair leg like a club. “You’re going to die tonight, that’s a given, you died the moment you touched Lisa, but you have a choice.” He walked over to Mitch and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look into Tom’s eyes. “You can either suffer a slow death, which you rightly deserve, or you can have mercy earned by telling me where I can find your little friends.”

Mitch stared at Tom unable to speak, tears brimming his eyes. “Right, maybe you need a little incentive.” Mitch looked towards the chair leg in Tom’s hand, eyes going wide, preparing himself to block the blow, he wasn’t ready for what Tom had in mind. Tom let go of Mitch’s jaw and grabbed the handle of the knife, and gave it a tiny little twist. Mitch screamed even louder, his vision going black, he was sure that he was going to black out from all the pain any moment. It was then that the barkeep came back in, gun in hand, alerted by Mitch’s screams of pain.

Tom turned towards him, his light blue eyes turning dark, “I have no quarrel with you, I suggest you keep it that way and leave.”

“Like hell, you come into my bar and threaten and injure my customers, you sure as hell got a problem with me.” The barkeep shot Tom, it was a perfect shot, right in the center of his head. Tom wavered for a moment before falling over, Mitch watched him in horror, the fear ebbing somewhat, maybe he wasn’t really who he said he was, maybe he was just some crazy who thought he knew something. All the same, Mitch looked over at the barkeep who was walking towards him, setting the gun on the bar on his way.

“What the fuck are you doing man? He was after me not you. You have no idea what you’ve done!”

“I knew I should have cut you off a beer or two ago.” The barkeep said, grabbing the knife and pulling as hard as he could. Mitch gave a little grunt of pain and clutched his hand and pulled it to his chest once it was free. “The freak was going to beat the living shit out of you at best, and kill you at worst. I just saved your ungrateful fucking,” there was a click, and the barkeeps’ eyes went wide at the feel of the barrel of his gun pressed against his temple. “Not possible,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

“I told you to leave,” Tom said, a touch of regret in his voice, “but you just had to stay involved. By the way, you missed a spot.” He pulled the trigger, the barkeep dropped quickly, bone and brain matter spraying over the bar. Mitch got up off the stool he’d been sitting on, and backed up into the wall still clutching his hand which was bleeding profusely.

“Please, don’t.”

“Oh, so you’re begging now? Tell me, when Lisa begged you to stop did you? Because I don’t remember that. And you should know, begging isn’t going to save you, you’re already dead remember? Now, tell me where I can find your friends and we can get this over with. Or would you prefer the slow death?” Tom raised the gun and aimed it at Mitch, who swallowed hard.

“Okay, okay,” Mitch raised his good hand, and lowered his head a little, not wanting to see Tom pull the trigger after he squealed. He couldn’t believe he was telling him, but he could only imagine the things that Tom would to do him to draw out his death, and he was sure they weren’t half as bad as what Tom could and would actually do. “Steve works over at Gideon’s Pawn, he’s probably there now working on the books. He likes to do that in the middle of the night for some fucking reason. And there’s no way of knowing where Vince is, but the fucking pervert can probably be found at The Peep Show. I honestly don’t know where else he would be if he’s not there.” Mitch closed his eyes tight, wondering if he would hear the bang of the gun before he died.

“Thank you, Mitch, you’ve saved me a lot of time.” Tom lowered the gun, and waited for Mitch to look at him, he did after a moment, his fear fading into bewilderment. Tom flicked the safety on the gun before tossing it aside. Mitch watched it, fear and a little bit of hope mixing on his face as he returned his gaze to Tom. “Now, about that death I owe you.” Tom bent down and picked up the chair leg he had dropped when the barkeep had shot him, swinging it up and bringing it across Mitch’s face in a shocking blow. Mitch stumbled sideways, before falling to the floor. He tried to scoot himself away from Tom, but he couldn’t see straight, and only had the use of one hand. Tom brought the chair leg down across Mitch’s back, causing him to collapse fully onto the floor.

It took him a couple of minutes to regain his strength enough to turn himself over, he looked up at Tom, who was now wielding the knife in his other hand. “What the hell man? I told you what you wanted to know, I squealed like a fucking pig. You told me you’d show me mercy if I did!” He winced, his head spinning with pain. He could feel his own blood pouring down his face and hand. He tried to push himself back, but his legs could barely move.

“You’re right, I did promise you mercy. I’m showing you just as much mercy as you showed Lisa,” Tom swung the chair leg and hit Mitch in the arm so hard not only could he hear the bones in Mitch’s arm break, but the chair leg broke as well. He tossed the bit of chair still in his hand over his shoulder, watching Mitch cry in pain and fear. Mitch was obviously becoming weak from the blood loss, and Tom was sure that he had broken his back, he wouldn’t be going anywhere, and it really was only a matter of time before he died from the loss of blood. But still, he couldn’t stand to leave, knowing the bastard was still alive.

He closed his eyes, and a flash of sound hit him. It was Lisa, screaming in pain, begging for her life, and Mitch laughing. He opened his eyes, they were dark now, no hint of blue left in his anger and pain. He took the knife from his left hand, and squatted down next to Mitch, watching him struggle for the sweet relief of death. “You get just as much mercy as you gave her, that’s the way this works. But don’t think that your punishment ends with death, this is only the beginning.” He took the knife and shoved it through Mitch’s chest, and watched as life faded from his face, fear still etched across it in a gruesome death mask.

Tom stood up, and made his way across the bar, stepping over the barkeep in the process. He stopped at the coat rack, and took a leather trench coat off it, putting it on as he pulled open the door and stepped outside. It was still raining, though not as hard as it had been when he had walked into the bar. The crow was still sitting on the handles of the motorcycle, watching him carefully. Tom couldn’t help but smile a little, he felt as if some weight had been taken off his shoulders, the rain washing the pain away a little at a time. “What do you say?” he asked the crow, “Shall we go shopping?” The crow gave a caw of approval, and Tom took off, walking down the street towards Gideon’s Pawn, the crow resting on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

_Lisa felt as though she had been working in the garden for ages, in truth it had only been a few hours, but still there was a lot of work to do. It was grueling, and her back and legs ached from pulling weeds, but she was so happy about it. She had always dreamed of having a little garden of her own, and the house Tom had bought them had a lot of garden space, she might even have room to grow some vegetables. Lisa stood up and stretched, looking up at the house that was slowly becoming theirs. They had a lot of work to do, years of repairs ahead, but they had made a good start. They were planning on painting the exterior next week, if they could ever decide on a color that is, but the paint would make it look a lot better than it did now._

_Lisa sighed, no point of thinking about all the work they had to do in the next couple of weeks, there was plenty to worry about getting done today. She looked up at the sun, it was pretty close to being at its highest point in the sky, and glancing at her watch she saw that it was a little past noon. She took off her sun bonnet and gloves, set them on the porch steps, brushing off her pants as she walked in the back door. She looked around the kitchen, boxes of dishes and pots and pans sat everywhere. Lisa couldn’t help but smile, it was going to be a pain to go through all the stuff they had, getting rid of all of the duplicate stuff that they had. But the thought of eating off of mismatched plates was somehow appealing to her, it was some sort of representation of them melding their lives together._

_She washed her hands in the sink, and opened the window, looking at the back yard, dreams of what could be playing in her head._

_“Don’t tell me,” Tom said, making Lisa jump at the sound of his voice. She turned around and leaned against the counter, her hand over her heart in an exaggeration of her surprise._

_“You scared me. And don’t tell you what?”_

_“That there’s already some hot shirtless guy mowing our lawn.” Tom responded, a smile playing at his lips._

_“Oh no, not yet, I told him to come back after you left.” Tom burst out laughing, his unique laugh of ‘eheheheh’ ringing through the nearly empty house. “Actually, I was just thinking how nice it was to have a yard and a garden. Thinking about lazy summer evenings, sitting out on the back porch, watching the sun go down while we have a beer or two.” Tom made his way over to Lisa, turned her around and wrapped his arms around her waist._

_“You know, I can just see it.” Tom said, leaning his head down so he could place a kiss on her check before looking out the window again. Lisa sighed with contentment, placed her hands over his arms which were speckled with paint from the front room, she leaned it to him, and they swayed slightly. “We should get a swing set, and maybe some of the guys from work can help me build a tree house, that tree is just perfect for it.”_

_Lisa turned around, and wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck, and pulled him in close for a kiss. “Have some big plans there do ya?” she asked when they broke the kiss._

_“Oh yes,” Tom replied, pulling her in closer._

_“Good, I like those plans.”_


	3. Irony

Gideon’s Pawn was a tiny little building, just one story and two rooms. The first room was full of stuff people had pawned (most of which was stolen), and the second room was the back office. It wasn’t much of an office, more like a glorified hallway tucked in the back. It was in this small office that Steve was fast asleep on an old army cot. He’d been sleeping on the retched thing for a month now, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone he’d been thrown out of his apartment, he didn’t need anyone’s pity.

He hadn’t slept well the last week or so, he’d been plagued with strange dreams that he couldn’t remember. One thing was constant though, he’d wake up with a start covered in sweat. Whatever the dreams were, they had him terrified, and no matter what he did the dreams came. He had also developed a sudden fear of crows, which bugged the shit out of him, being scarred of a fucking bird.

***

Tom stood in the street looking at the sad little building that was Gideon’s Pawn. The paint was peeling off the sign, many of the bricks were damaged. The only window had bars over it, and the gate that was pulled down over the door had a simple pad lock on it. Tom looked around, there wasn’t anyone out on the street, he wasn’t really expecting anyone to be, but he just couldn’t help but check. He walked over to the small rundown building, and banged his open palm against the gate. Steve woke up to the sound, and rolled over to look at the clock, the red light glowing at him, stating that it was just after four in the morning. Steve swore under his breath, and pulled himself off the cot. He stumbled into the main room, and leaned against the counter just as there was another bang on the gate. “Fuck off, we’re closed,” he called out before turning to go back to his cot and get a few more hours sleep.

Tom smiled, “Guess we get to break in,” he said to the crow, and grabbed the simple pad lock. He gave it a pull, and it gave way without much trouble. Tom dropped the lock and pulled the gate back, then rapped his knuckles against the glass door.

Steve froze in the door way and turned around, “What the fuck?” he whispered. He could see Tom standing at the door, lit by the street light behind him. Fear began to rise in him as he noticed the crow sitting on Tom’s shoulder. He quickly walked back to the counter and grabbed the gun that was stashed under it. “I said we’re closed, asshat. Go sleep it off someplace else.” Tom punched the glass of the door, shattering it completely. He calmly walked in and made his way to the counter, the crow took flight and settled on the cash register. Steve’s hand shook ever so slightly, but he wasn’t about to let the bird make him too nervous, this guy was obviously on something. “Right, I’ll call the coroner for you.” He said a shot Tom in the chest.

Tom took a few steps back, then swayed a little where he stood. He looked down and watched the wound heal itself, looking back up at Steve he could see that he was several shades paler than he had been, his hand visibly shaking now. “You know, that really stings. Besides, that was one of my favorite shirts.” Steve dropped the gun and backed into the wall behind him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Tom walked the rest of the way to the counter and placed his hands on the counter. “Now, you and I have some unfinished business.”

“Wha-What kind of business?” Steve whispered, his fear keeping him from speaking any louder. “I-I’ve never seen you before man, I got no business with you.” He started shaking his head as though he could convince Tom to leave by doing so.

“I expected you’d see it that way, but you know what they say, an eye for an eye, a life for a life.” Tom looked down at the gun on the counter, but what caught his eye was below the gun in the case. A single engagement ring resting in a small box.

***

_“Lisa,” Tom whispered in her ear, “are you happy?” They’d been at the beach for a couple of hours, they’d had it mostly to themselves since it was a somewhat overcast day. Lisa had been staring out at the horizon, watching the ships go by. She turned and looked at him, her face suddenly full of concern._

_“What do you mean, ‘am I happy?’ of course I’m happy. What is this all about, Tom?” She cupped his cheek, and searched his eyes, trying to divine what he was thinking._

_“I was just thinking about how happy I am with you, how our life together is so wonderful, how I can’t imagine my life without you.”_

_“Tom, you are the possibly the strangest man I have ever met, and I love you completely. I can’t imagine my life without you either.” Tom smiled, and turned so he was facing her._

_“I was really hoping you would say that. Lisa, would you allow me the honor of being your husband?” he pulled a small fabric pouch out of his pocket and opened it, he pulled out a simple ring and held it up for her to see._

_Lisa didn’t even look at it, she was watching Tom, tears of joy filling her eyes, “Of course!” she cheered and gave him a massive hug, knocking him back._

_He laughed and held her tight, “That’s a bit more of a reaction than I expected. Here, let’s get this ring on you before we lose it in the sand.” Lisa sat back up and brushed off her hands as Tom sat up, she gave him her hand and watched as he slipped the ring on her finger._

_She held it out and admired it before planting a kiss on Tom’s lips, “I’ll never take it off.”_

***

Tom’s fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun, his jaw clenched. He could feel the anger boiling up in him. That memory, he hadn’t wanted to think about it. He knew it was in there somewhere with all the others, but he had hoped that it would stay deep down and not haunt him. “You took her ring.” He said through clenched teeth, looking back up at Steve. “You took the last good memory of her,” he threw the gun to the side and jumped over the counter. Steve jumped as Tom slammed his open palm against the wall beside his head, “You owe more than you can pay.”

Tom grabbed Steve by the throat and tossed him off to the side, making him crash into a display of instruments. He cut his hand which began to bleed, he tried to push himself up and turn around, but Tom grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up again. The world went spinning for a moment as Steve found himself going through the air, the air was knocked out of him when he hit the cement floor, a searing pain running through him. He struggled for breath, and once he was able to catch it he looked around to see where Tom had gone. He was standing at the counter again, looking at the ring. He thought about it a moment, then broke the glass and pulled the ring out. He turned to Steve, anger burning in his eyes even brighter than before. “How many more? How many lives have you destroyed that are represented in this sorry excuse for a shop?”

“I don’t, I don’t know. It’s not just me, it’s…” Tom raised his hand to silence Steve, he knew what he was going to say, the others’ handy work was here too. They were making money off other peoples’ pain. He turned again to the display case, and pulled out a simple but long chain. Carefully he threaded the ring he had given to Lisa on it and slipped it on. He could hear Steve, trying to get up, but he wasn’t too concerned about it, Steve wasn’t going to make it far.

Steve struggled to his feet, and seeing Tom’s back to him he began to look around for something to hit Tom with. He began to reach for a guitar when Tom’s calm voice made him freeze, the words were definitely not what he would have expected.

“Thy soul shall find itself alone

'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.”

Tom turned and faced Steve, the anger in his eyes now gone, replaced by calm purpose.

“Be silent in that solitude,

Which is not loneliness- for then

The spirits of the dead, who stood

In life before thee, are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee; be still.”

He reached over and grabbed the cash register and ripped it off the counter, the crow jumping down to what was left of the display case. “Lisa always did like that poem.” He tossed threw the register at Steve who tried to move out of the way, but wasn’t able to move fast enough and took it in the gut. Steve doubled over and coughed, and once again tried to catch his breath. Tom grabbed him by the hair before he could, and pulled him over to another display case, this one filled with knives. He slammed Steve’s head down on the counter, and Steve began to scramble when he saw where he was, the blades of the knives shinning faintly in the light coming from the lights outside. Tom pulled his head back up with both hands and slammed it back down on the glass with enough force to break it.

Shards of glass cut up his face, trails of blood dripping onto the knives below him. Tom reached in and picked up a particularly brutal looking Bowie knife. “Please, don’t” Steve whimpered as he pushed himself out of the case. Tom grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him close, running the blade of the knife along his throat just enough to draw a little blood.

“You’re not paying attention, you’re already dead, haven’t you noticed? I’m just the welcome committee, but now it’s time for you to move on, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure they call the coroner for you.” Tom pulled the knife back and plunged it into Steve’s chest. Steve gasped, the blood trickling down his chest, he fell when Tom let go of him, the blood pouring out of his wounds.

Tom looked around, there were bicycles, instruments, jewelry, televisions, and all manner of other things. Things that had been taken from people, these were the mementos of shattered lives, brought here to be sold for an easy profit. He looked at the crow, who gave him a simple nod and flew through the window. Tom went into the back room and found a small gas can, there wasn’t much in it, but there was enough. He walked back out splashing the gas around as he went. He tossed the gas can back inside once he reached the door. He reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out a lighter, he smiled faintly before tearing off a piece of his shirt, he lit it and threw it into the building before walking across the street. It didn’t take long for the flames to begin lapping at the window.

Tom sighed and looked up at the sky, it still looked dark, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do with the time he had left before sunrise. He looked at the crow who was happily crunching on a bug it had found on the ground, “I think that’s it for tonight, time to go back to the house.” He turned and began walking away from the building that was now consumed in flames, the crow resting on his shoulder once again. The sounds of sirens getting closer in the quiet morning.

* * *

 

_Tom trudged up the stairs, is body growing more and more tired the further he went. He stopped at the doorway of the would be nursery, he leaned against the doorframe, tears filling his eyes. Lisa had talked about having kids one day, but she always made it sound like it was some distant thing. The more the house had come together though, the more she talked about it, and she never did mention what she had planned for this room. Tom sighed, the things that could have been where more painful than the ghosts of memory._

_He turned away and walked further down the hall towards the bedroom he had once shared with Lisa. He took off the leather coat and dropped it on the floor, he took a few more steps before he fell to his knees, fatigue over taking him. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, and laid his head down. He could almost hear Lisa’s laughter coming from the bathroom, the scent of her bubble bath drifting towards him as he drifted into unconsciousness._

_Lisa slipped into the bubble bath, it had been another busy Saturday around the house. Things were beginning to come together nicely. The house finally felt like a home now that the kitchen was put together and almost all of the painting had been done. Her gardens were coming in nicely, she even had a few tomatoes coming in. She’d been weeding all the gardens for most of the day, and decided that she deserved a nice bubble bath to unwind._

_“Lisa, where are you?” she could hear Tom walking into the bedroom, and she lifted her head from its resting spot and looked at him in the bedroom. She couldn’t help but snicker at the sight of him, he was wearing his painting clothes, which were now splattered in several different colors of paint. His hair was sticking up in crazy waves, and he had a stripe of purple paint down his forearm. “What’s so funny?” he asked, seeing the smirk on her face._

_“You look quite the sight.”_

_Tom looked down and inspected himself, then took off his clothes. “You know, I was painting the guest room for you.” He walked over and sat on the edge of the tub, and trailed his fingers through the bubbly water. “But you are right, I could use a bath.”_

_“Don’t you dare,” Lisa pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, she knew nothing she could say would stop him, but she had to try. “The tub is already full and you’ll get water all over the floor!”_

_Tom looked at the floor and shrugged a shoulder, “Well, the floor probably needs to be cleaned anyway.” He climbed into the tub, water spilling out and onto the floor as he lowered himself into the hot water and bubbles._

_“You are fully responsible for cleaning that up.” Lisa chided._

_“Of course, but we can worry about that later.” Tom held his hands out and made a little ‘come here’ motion. Lisa looked over the edge of the tub at the water on the floor and shook her head before pulling herself over to him. He helped her turn around so that her back was pressed up against his chest, more water spilling over the edge of the tub in the process. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean that up too.”_

_Lisa couldn’t help but smile and laugh a little. She began to trail her fingers along his legs, and rested her head against his shoulder. “You know, I was thinking we need to get out, we’ve spent so much of our free time working on this house. Maybe we need a little break.” Tom wrapped one arm around Lisa’s shoulders and the other one around her stomach, pulling her in a little closer. “I mean, I know you want to get more work done, but honestly Tom, just a little break.”_

_Tom gave her cheek a kiss before answering her, “Actually, I was thinking a nice little day trip to the beach. I thought a picnic would be nice, and I might even have another little surprise for you too.”_

_“I thought you said no more surprises, remember? When you bought this house, you said you weren’t going to have any more surprises, and now you tell me otherwise.”_

_“I believe I said I might have a surprise for you. Besides, if there is a surprise, I really think you'll love it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Tom recites is called "Spirits of the Dead" by Edgar Allan Poe.


	4. Despair

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tom groaned, and pushed himself until he was sitting. Tap. Tap. Tap. He looked around and saw the crow perched on the window seat, tapping away at it with it's beak. “okay, okay, I'm up.” He says, his eyes not quite focused yet. He looked around the room, still empty and still, but he could feel those ghosts of memory swirling around. The crow tapped the window seat again. “Okay, your right, time to go, we have business to attend to at The Peep Show.” The crow cawed in agreement and took flight, leading him down the stairs and out the front door. 

*  
Vince stood outside The Peep Show, waiting for the doors to open. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke through his nose before checking the time again. Two minutes to 10 is what his watch told him. He turned around and banged on the glass door at the desk clerk, “Come on man, just open the fucking door!”

The clerk looked u at him and rolled his eyes, “You know the rules, Vince, no one gets in until 10, not even your perverted ass.” he called back.

“Fucking asshole.” Vince muttered and leaned back against the wall. He could hear thunder in the distance, it would probably be poring rain by the time he left. He hated the rain, but as long as it didn't start in the next two minutes he wouldn't mind too much. Finally the clerk made his way over to the door and unlocked it, not even bothering to open the door for Vince he made his way back to the counter and waited for him.

“About fucking time,” Vince huffed as he made his way in. “The usual.” Vince said, slapping cash onto the counter.

“50, and you can take room two, one is out of commission.” They exchanged the cash for a few measly tokens, and Vince made his way to the hallway that lead to the viewing rooms.

*

Tom looked at the back door of The Peep Show, it was a sorry excuse for a security door. It was a fairly simple solid core door, with nothing ore than a doorknob with a lock, something any one could pick. Of course Tom didn't have anything to pick the lock with, but he really didn't need to. He kicked the door in and stepped through. The hallway in which he found himself was deserted, but he could hear voices of the girls who worked there up ahead. 

Tom made his way towards the girls, he was hoping he could get them to leave without sounding some kind of alarm. He truly didn't want them to get hurt, the way he saw it they were victims of the same system that had killed Lisa and him. It didn't take long for him to find the small “dressing” room that the girls shared. He calmly walked in and found three girls in various stages of undress, his heart sank a little at the sight of drugs sitting on one of the small makeup counters. He heard a small cough, and saw a young girl no more than two years old curled up and sleeping in the corner.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing back here?”

Tom turned and looked at the woman who had spoken “Is this your child?” he asked. One of the other two women stood up and moved s that she was between Tom and the little girl. She was young, not more than 20 it tom had to guess, but the years had not been kind to her. Tom bowed his head slightly, “i promise you ladies, I mean no harm to you or the child. I am here for a client, but I am offering you a chance to leave. The back door is open, there is no one to stop you. I am giving you the chance at another life.”

he watched as the women gathered up their things and stepped cautiously around him as though they thought he would stop them. He watched the young mother as she put a long coat over herself and shoved clothes into a large purse that she slung over her shoulder. She carefully squatted down next to her daughter and picked her up. She held the little girl tightly to her as she went to pass Tom, he held his hand out and gently placed it on her arm. “Mother is the name for God on the hearts and lips of all children, don't ever forget that.” he didn't look at her when he said it, but kept his gaze fixed on the child.

“who are you?” she all but whispered. Tom closed his eyes, who was he? Not the same man who had taught English during the week and did theater on the weekends. Not the same man who had bought a house for his girlfriend. That man was still in there, somewhere, but he was a shadow of that man, a very dark shadow.

He looked her right in the eye and saw in them pain and fear, but just a little bit of hope as well. “A ghost,” he finally said, and took his hand off her arm to let her leave.

“If it's Vince you're after he'll no doubt be in room two.” She hesitated for a moment, as though she was deciding whether or not she should say the next part. “You'll make him pay?” Tom nodded. “Good, make him suffer too.” Her voice took on a hard note, and tears brimmed her eyes. Tom looked at the small child in her arms, he placed one hand on her tiny head and wrapped his other arm around the young mother, pulling her into a hug. His heart was breaking as the realization of her words rolled over him in waves.

He let her go, and listened as her high heels clicked on the floor as she made her way out of the building. He thought about the words she had said, the meaning behind them. He thought about what had brought him here in the first place. All those happy memories with Lisa, the life they could have had, all taken away in a few brutal minutes. He looked towards the door that lead to the peep rooms, ad made his way to room two.

*

Vince walked into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. He kicked the chair up against the wall and took a wide stance. He was already semi-hard from the anticipation, but he liked watching the girls do what he told them to. He set the small pile of coins that were in his hand on the small counter and took one and slipped it into the slot while he palmed his cock through his jeans. The metal shutter covering the window into the peep room began to lift and Vince closed his eyes, wanting to hear the girl's voice before he saw her. He waited until he heard the click of the shutter slipping into place before taking out his now completely hard cock, a smile slipping onto his face.

“Is that for me?” he heard in a low tone. His eyes flew open and he looked at the man in the peep booth sitting on a chair. He was sitting up straight, with his legs spread wide, and his hands clasped between them. There was a wide mocking grin on his face, made slightly maniacal by the way his face was painted up. Vince felt himself go soft, just as anger started to rise up in him. He quickly replaced his cock and took a step towards the door.. “What's the matter?” Tom asked in a slightly mocking tone, he pulled his knees together and leaned forward, “don't you want me?”

Vince regained his stance, his anger now mixed with humiliation. “Fuck you. What the hell do you think you are doing here?”

Tom stood up and kicked the window, sending glass flying at Vince who fell back against the door. Tom stepped down into the room, glass crunching beneath his feet. Vince grabbed the chair and swung it at Tom, breaking it across his left side. Tom looked down at the remains of the broken chair, and Vince took the opportunity to pull out his knife and brandish it at Tom. “Don't fucking come any closer, I'll fucking kill you if you do.”

Tom cocked an eyebrow at Vince, “Don't you know what I am?” he asked, taking a step towards Vince.

Vince didn't hesitate, he quickly aimed for Tom's heart and plunged the knife into his chest. “You're fucking dead.” he spat, giving the knife a little push before pulling it out. Blood poured out of Tom's chest, and both men looked down at the wound it poured from. A cocky smile returned to Vince's face, and the fear he had felt before disappeared as he waited for Tom to collapse. Before it dawned on him that the wound was closing Tom spoke, his voice calm and even.

“Can't kill a dead man Vince.” He waited for Vince to grasp what was happening, the horror of the facts slipping onto his face. Tom grabbed him by the throat and shoved him up against the door. Vince brought up his knife and slashed it across Tom's face before Tom was able to grab it from him with his free hand. Vince watched as the wound closed, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the only evidence left of it as the bright red of Tom's blood against the white of his make up.

“What are you?” Vince strained to ask.

Tom leaned in close, his voice nothing more than a calm whisper, “All your nightmares, rolled into one.”

He pulled Vince back and slammed him against the brick wall, Vince's vision going dark as his head hit the wall. Vince could feel the blood trickling down the back of his head from where the skin had broken on impact. He raised his hands to grasp onto Tom's wrist, panic rising in him as his body began to scream for more air. Tom eased his grip on Vince's throat, allowing him to take in large gulps of air.

“Please, man,” Vince begged, his voice hoarse and strained. “Why are you doing this?” Tom raised the knife and placed it against Vince's cheek, giving it just enough pressure to draw blood as he dragged it down.

“You know, Vince, you are my last stop, and all of you keep asking me the same question, 'Why?' Last night the answer was simple, you destroyed everything beautiful in my life. You beat and raped my fiancee. You killed her. The fact that you and your friends killed me too has very little to do with this.” He waved the knife a little to indicate the events taking place in the small room. “But tonight I've realized something, all three of you have destroyed so many lives in so many ways. I am not just Lisa's avenging angel, I AM vengeance for all those lives you've shattered.”

He released his hold on Vince's throat, only to place his forearm against his chest to hold him in place. He brought the knife up and placed it against Vince's throat, applying enough pressure that blood began to trickle down it. “I read once that having your throat slit is an awful way to die, Vince. You try to gasp for breath but can't, the river of blood pouring out of your arteries gets pulled into your lungs and you begin to drown in your own blood. You are very aware of the fact that you are going to die. I'm telling you this because I want you to do me a favor, Vince,” Tom pushed the knife into Vince's throat with more force, and quickly pulled it back, severing the arteries, veins, tendons and muscle beneath the skin. Blood sprayed across the room and painted Tom's face and shirt, the river of blood that followed quickly drenching Vince's shirt as Tom stepped back, releasing him to slide down the wall to the floor. Vince's hands went to his throat in an unconscious attempt to stop the bleeding. “I want you to think of all the horror's you've done in your life, all the little petty crimes, all the women you've raped, all the lives you've taken, and then ask yourself why I've come.”

Tom turned towards the door, he didn't need to watch Vince's life end, it would come quickly enough, the sounds of his attempted breaths were becoming more and more shallow. He stepped out into the hall just in time to see the counter clerk heading towards him, hand gun tucked into his waistband. The clerk stopped at the sight of Tom. Tom's face, shirt, and hand's were covered in blood, the knife still dripping crimson beads held at his side. It only took a moment for the clerk to process what he was seeing, and he pulled the gun out of his waistband and aimed it at Tom. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

Suddenly feeling very tired Tom dropped the knife, the sound of it clattering on the floor filling the space of the small hallway. “To you I am no one, and if you let me pass I will remain as such. If you fire that gun, however, I will be your Death as I was Vince's.” The clerk lowered the gun slightly, and Tom took a calm step towards him. Receiving no reaction from the man he began walking towards him, towards the front entrance, leaving the clerk to attend to the dying Vince.

As soon as he was outside in the pouring rain he removed his leather jacket, allowing it to fall to the ground in a heap. The crow sitting on a lamp post, watching as Tom through his arms out and tilted his head back, allowing the rain to wash away the blood and make up that had marked him. He stood like that until he could hear the sound of police siren's heading in his direction. He lowered his arms and looked at the crow, “Okay, lets go.” he says as he turns and makes his way down the road, the crow taking flight to follow.


	5. Death

_Tom collapsed on the couch, it had been a long day at school, it was almost the end of the school year and his students were getting restless. He had stayed at the school later than usual, pouring over papers, each one seemingly worse than the last. Lisa came in from the kitchen and sat down beside him, draping her legs across his lap. “I've put the kettle on, figured you could use a cup of tea.” Tom smiled at her, she always seemed to know just what he needed._  
_“What would I ever do without you?”_  
_“Make your own tea.”_  
_Tom couldn't help but smile at her blunt answer. “True, but the company is far better having you here.” He pulled her into his arms, feeling the weight of her as she curled herself up against him. The vanilla scent of her hair filling the air._

_*_

_“Can, anybody, find me, somebody toooo, looooove?” Lisa sang as she gathered up ingredients for breakfast. Tom came into the kitchen, a smile spread wide across his face._

_“Has anyone ever told you that you are completely tone deaf?”_

_“Says my most adoring fan.” Lisa beams at him. He steps over to the radio and turns up the volume before pulling Lisa into his arms for a dance around the kitchen table._

_“That's true, I cannot deny that you are, by far, my favorite person in the world.”_

_“And you, dear Thomas, are mine.”_

*

Tom sits on the stairs of the house he once shared with Lisa, the rooms musty and full of dust. He had wondered the house awhile, letting the ghosts he had previously tried to keep at bay wash over him. A thousand memories of her smile, her laugh, her teasing jokes, and sweet caresses flooding in with brilliant detail. They could have had a happy life together in this house, he saw that too. The ghosts of what could have been mixing in with the ghosts of what was. He looked at the crow, who was happily crunching on a beetle it had found.

“What happens next?” he asked it. The crow looked up at him and cocked it's head for a moment before returning it's attention back to the beetle. Tom sighed and looked up the stairs towards the bedroom he shared with Lisa, memories of her beneath him, clutching at him as though to pull him closer washed over him. He shook his head and stood up. “I can't leave it like this,” he says more to himself than to the crow.

He walked into the kitchen, and riffled through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He made his way up the stairs and to the bedroom, the crow following and settling once more on his shoulder as he stared at the empty bed. He stood there a moment, before stepping towards it as though he would climb beneath the blankets and there rest for eternity. Instead he lifted the box in his hand, and removed a single match. He lit it and tossed it on the bed, watching as the bedclothes caught the flame and began to be consumed. He calmly turned and left the room, heading towards his office, matches in hand.

He had moved through the house in this same manner, going from room to room, lighting the furniture aflame before moving on. He was now standing in the kitchen, the smoke that now filled the house swirled around him, the crow still perched on his shoulder now flapping its wings in irritation. He dropped the box of matches, unable to set Lisa's beloved kitchen table on fire. She had loved this kitchen, this he would leave be, the flames from the rest of the house would soon consume it as well.

Finally taking his leave through the back door he looked into the yard that they had worked so hard to make beautiful, it was now overrun with dying weeds. He descended the steps from the deck, ad there on the invisible property line that had separated their yard from the fields that surrounded their house stood the most beautiful angel he had ever seen. He face spread into a smile of pure joy, and for the last time the crow took flight, and disappeared into the night.

Tom made his way towards his angel, and stopped just in front of her, her face turned upwards towards his. “Lisa,” he whispered as she reached up and brushed his cheek. A warm smile spread across her face and he pulled her into an embrace, she held onto him as though she would stay like that for all eternity. He pulled back from her to once again look into her eyes, and cradled her face in his hands.

She pulled them down and turned as though to walk away, but still she faced him, her smile as bright as it had been the day he had met her, the day he had brought her to their home for the first time, her final smile of joy and love on that now very distant dark day. “It's time to go home Tom.” she said, taking a step into the next world. Tom's smile widened and he followed her without hesitating, knowing that they could now rest in peace. Together. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads and like this. I know it's not the greatest piece of work, but it is a work of love, and one that I am proud of. I have to admit, that while I knew how it would end right from the very beginning, writing the final lines brought tears to my eyes. I don't know if it was because I was finally finished with it, or because I was moved by the words my Muse choose to pour out of me. I hope that you enjoyed this work, and I truly hope that I will continue to write more works (and improve in my writing skills).


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